


Not Much for Parties

by alxxiis



Series: Better By Your Firelight [2]
Category: Baldur's Gate
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:49:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27634355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alxxiis/pseuds/alxxiis
Summary: Serilda finds a quiet spot to avoid the party, but Halsin manages to find her.
Relationships: Halsin (Baldur's Gate)/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Better By Your Firelight [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2018318
Comments: 4
Kudos: 26





	Not Much for Parties

The river lapped against the bank, just inches from her boot as she sat on a log someone had dragged out toward the water. Music and voices sounded behind her, but with her back against a boulder, she was hidden from the celebration. Or so she thought.

“Do you not wish to join the others?” a deep voice spoke beside her.

Serilda looked up to find a very large and very friendly elf smiling at her.

“Halsin,” she said, giving him a wave with a cup in her gloved hand. She craned her neck to look past him at the dancing tieflings and her conversing companions; she didn’t have much interest in participating in either. “I’m… not really one for parties.” Returning her back to the stone and eyes to the water, she took a drink and added, “And I wouldn’t want them to mistake my discomfort for disapproval or something else that may spoil the party. They deserve to celebrate.”

“I don’t wish to disturb you,” he replied. “I simply came to check on you, but I understand if you prefer to remain solitary.”

She glanced up at him, catching a glint of something she couldn’t place. Grabbing the bottle beside her, she held it out to him and smiled. “I think I can handle the company of a single elf.”

He returned her grin and accepted the bottle before sitting on the log beside her, the added weight causing the wood to give the faintest creak. 

“Thank you,” he said. He eyed the bottle a moment for taking a swig, barely able to suppress a grimace.

“It’s awful,” Serilda remarked with a chuckle. “But I figure at some point, you stop tasting it.”

“Right you are.” He took another swig. “But still awful for the time being.”

A burst of magic Serilda recognized as Aurella’s sounded, followed by glass shattering and angry shouting, and then a certain vampire’s laugh. Halsin’s attention turned to the crowd behind them.

“Your sister appears more at home among the chaos of revelry,” he said, chuckling. “Though, I’m not sure the tieflings will appreciate her spilling their wine.”

“If that’s the worst she’s doing, I’m not too concerned,” Serilda said, downing a long swig from her cup and shuddering.

“Interesting one, your sister,” he commented before following Serilda’s lead and taking a drink himself. 

“Interesting is a… kind… way of putting it.” She frowned, second-guessing whether she should check on Aurella. “She had a rough childhood,” Serilda explained, the alcohol loosening her tongue. “We both did, but I got lucky and happened to be saved, and she… she wasn’t.” She finished what remained in her cup. “I’ll never forgive myself for it.”

Halsin refilled her cup and sighed. “Forgiveness is hardest to offer yourself. You can spend a lifetime regretting actions taken, or perhaps not taken, but it does little good. Wishing to change the past only serves to widen the hole felt in your chest.” His voice carried an echo of what he had probably told himself at some point; the long drink he took, as if to wash it away, furthered her suspicions. “There’s naught to be done for the past, but you can still rectify the future.”

A soft hum vibrated against her cup as she took another drink. She smiled. “Do you do this often?”

He raised a brow at her.

“Offer unsolicited but very comforting advice to strangers?” she asked, chuckling into her cup. 

He mirrored her chuckle. “I suppose years of serving as the grove’s master has formed some unwelcome habits.”

“I said unsolicited, not unwelcome,” she reminded him.

“Are they not the same?”

She shrugged. “I don’t think so. Unsolicited means I didn’t ask. Unwelcome means I didn’t appreciate it.”

Silence fell between the two as they continued to drink, until each had finished what they held.

“Can you hand me another bottle?” she asked, arm extending across his body to point at the ground beside the log. “I stashed a few down there. Help yourself.”

He did as asked, and she didn’t bother pouring it in her cup this time, deciding instead to simply uncork it and drink it straight from the bottle.

Her mind wandered to ways of rectifying the future. She would offer Aurella a home--she was sure her mentor would allow it. She would provide magical instruction, formal training from her mentor or herself, even if their magics were a little different. She would keep an eye on her, keep her from landing herself in prison. 

“Dammit,” Serilda hissed under her breath. Aurella’s bounty.

“Is something the matter?”

“No, no,” she said, sighing. “I just remembered something unpleasant I’ll need to take care of once… if… I get back to the city.”

“I promise, Serilda,” he said, placing a warm, large hand on her shoulder, “I will do all I can to remove the parasite and return you to your city.”

Serilda smiled, though it didn’t quite meet her eyes. “Thank you.”

“May I ask you a few questions about the tadpole?” he said, letting his arm fall back into his lap. “I completely understand if you would prefer not to speak of it on a night that’s intended for celebration.”

Serilda shrugged. “I’m not really celebrating anyway,” she said, again finishing her cup. “I just can’t promise I’ll actually be able to answer your questions. I know almost nothing about it.”

“I hadn’t the chance to ask the drow about his experience with the tadpole,” Halsin said. “I was forced to kill him before managing any conversation.”

She frowned, thinking of the dead body she saw while Nettie tried to poison her.

“Have you felt any different since the insertion of the tadpole?” he asked. “Any unexpected symptoms? Or even expected symptoms? Fever? Bleeding from various orifices? Things such as this.”

“The strangest thing,” she began, deciding there was little reason to keep this information from the person she sought help from, “is this telepathic link we seem to have to each other. We can sort of see into each other’s heads. It’s not constant, thankfully, otherwise I’d have to listen to Aurella’s and Astarion’s disgusting thoughts all day. But there are times when we sort of slip into each other’s minds.”

His brow furrowed as he listened. 

“That telepathy, if we focus on it, can be used to…” She paused, struggling to find the right word. “Not exactly control, but I suppose influence people who have devoted themselves to this ‘Absolute.’”

“That’s… highly disturbing.”

She nodded. “It was how we entered the temple without provoking the goblins. I hadn’t meant to do it, it just sort of… happened. The gatekeeper, he threatened us, and I just had this sudden urge to assert power over him. It felt… good at the moment, which was terrifying. I felt horrible afterward.”

He hummed, a low, deep set sound in his chest. “Did anything more happen after using the telepathy granted by the tadpole?”

“We felt awful that night. Headache. Bodyache. Dread. I thought that was it, that we were turning, but we were fine--better than fine--the next morning.” A blushed crept through her cheeks and ears. “We had strange dreams, but I don’t remember mine,” she lied. “I only know it was odd since I woke with a feeling of unease. But then I felt great, we all did. And we had new abilities.”

The lines of many years spent in deep thought were pressed heavy into his skin as he mulled over this information. She could see the master, the healer, the well-respected and trusted druid considering every possibility and every danger, the severity glinting in the gold ring of his warm blue eyes.

“I would recommend against using these newfound abilities,” he finally spoke. “I understand the saying ‘Never look a gift horse in the mouth,’ but I do not believe these to be gifts. Sooner or later, there’ll be a price to pay.”

She nodded as she tipped her bottle back, only to find it empty, though she didn’t remember drinking it all. 

“I must apologize,” he said, glancing at his own bottle. “I’m afraid I’ve spoiled your already uncomfortable night of celebration with talk of things most unpleasant.”

With a shrug, she replied, “I agreed to it. I’d rather share this with someone I believe can actually help. Aurella went and told this batty old lady that was with the tieflings, and it’s not something I think should be shared with everyone we speak to.”

“I agree,” he said. “I think it’s safe to assume the fear would drive people to overreaction. Nettie’s attempted poisoning was certainly a good example.”

“I didn’t know you knew,” she replied. 

“Your sister gave me earful about it,” he said with a chuckle. “I understand Nettie’s thought process in trying to keep everyone safe by eliminating something we do not understand, but I still apologize on her behalf.” 

“Thank you,” Serilda said. “There was a risk telling you too,” she added, smiling. “I hope I wasn’t wrong to divulge our deepest secrets.”

He laughed. “I’m sure you have secrets far more interesting that I have yet to discover.”

Returning his chuckle, she blushed, but she assumed it to be from the drinks. “I hope you have the opportunity to do so.”

With a smile, he pushed himself to his feet and turned toward her. “I greatly enjoyed our conversation,” he said. “But I think it’s time for me to call it a night.”

At that, she yawned, suddenly yearning for her bedroll and noticing the noise of the party had died down.

“It appears you feel the same,” he added, holding his hand out to her.

She took it, feeling his warmth as he wrapped his long fingers around her leather-clad ones and pulled her up.

“Such a gentleman,” she teased, feeling a little unsteady on her feet.

“Even in the wilderness, we do not forget our manners,” he remarked. “Thank you for allowing me to disrupt your solitude.”

“And thank you for the company.”


End file.
